


Kiss Me under the Mistletoe

by alittlebitlove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Macy's "Santa letter" box, Mentions of homophobia, Sad Harry, don't even fucking ask me, sunshine louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebitlove/pseuds/alittlebitlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>PROMPT: so ya know that Macy's "Santa letter" box? Well can we have a Xmas FIC where Harry is a stripper or prostitute who is like 18 and he this year he writes "Santa" a letter and puts in the box and he talks about how sad he is and how his family doesn't accept he's gay and he hates what he does 4 a living and Lou works at Macy's and he happens to read it and decides to write back something rly sweet, and they start to send letters and meet sometime around Xmas in person and fall in love! Thnx</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or: Harry's a stripper that hates what he's doing, and one day he stumbles upon a flier that changes his whole life to better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two Christmases ago. TWO WHOLE FUCKING YEARS AGO. Do you know how much time that is? Do you even have the slightest idea? I still can't believe it.
> 
> Sooooo, I know I'm a bit late with Christmas fic, but somehow, I remembered this and remembered I've never posted this on AO3 and thought it was a good idea to do so. So I've spent the last 3 hours going over everything and fixing mistakes and whatnot because _two years_ so yeah. Hope it's worth your time. If not, I'm sorry for taking it away from you. Just so you know, you'll get a candy if you comment, I promise. :D Hope you enjoy! xx.
> 
> P. S. This is like a mini-fic I guess. Not to be confused.

Harry hated himself. He hated his life. He hated what he has become. He wished he didn’t feel that way. Oh, how he wished. He wished he could be like the other people like him – accept what he was and move on with his life. But he wasn’t – he isn’t – like that. He didn’t choose this path willingly. Everyone who knew him a bit better knew that he would do anything else, only if he had a choice. But that was the problem. He didn’t have one. He was stuck here, as a bloody stripper, with no one who cared. He was alone. It didn’t help that Christmas was so close – only a month away – and he didn’t have anyone to hold hands with, kiss or just cuddle with whilst watching _Love Actually_. Yes, Harry Styles was a hopeless romantic and he wasn’t actually afraid to admit it. It just didn’t go with the job and maybe he should’ve tried to change it, but he hasn’t. And he didn’t want to. He was just eighteen years old, after all. It was that romantic side of him that had left him with at least a bit of a sanity, so he accepted it dearly.

It was just one more night – one more night at the steamy, dirty, gay club with nothing but horny old men who wanted a bit of fun. Or closeted, married men who looked for release from their bored, old lives. Harry sighed and bit his lip as he looked at his body in the mirror. He wore nothing but thongs and some blazer that was not made to hide anything. It was his turn in five minutes and he wished he could just run away. But he needed the money and this was the only way. He was _talented._ This was his talent and, seeing as he had only finished high school, this was the only option.  He shook his head, trying to make those thoughts go away. He couldn’t think about it. He couldn’t think about how his life could’ve been different. How he could be at some prestigious University right now (because his grades were actually really good) and do something he loved. But no, everything went downhill _that_ day and all his dreams came crashing down. He took one more deep breath and then turned towards the entrance. Zayn, one of the few people here that Harry was actually good with, was just on stage and he was just finishing with grinding against some man that looked like he was in his mid-thirties. Harry closed his eyes for a few moments and let his thoughts flow. Just a few more seconds Zayn will be done with his act. He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself. He needed to put his performance face on and just think of the stage and how to please people that are going to give him money for what he does. He needed to _let it go._ Just like he always did. Just like he’d always do.

The tap on his shoulder brought him back into the present. He opened his eyes to see warm, brown eyes looking at him and small smile trying to assure him that everything was fine. “Good luck, mate. They’re not that bad today. You’ll live.” Zayn said assuredly and squeezed his shoulder before letting go. Harry had returned the smile and nodded curtly, not saying or doing anything else.

And then, he was there. Spotlight was on him. And he was doing what he was doing for almost a year already. He spun, slid down the bar, seducing the men in front of him with his skinny legs, wild curls and dimpled smile. He did his best, just like he always did. He rolled his hips in a way that drove them mad and the way he knew it’d get him money. His blazer was off quite quickly, so he was left only in thongs, men getting closer to the stage so they could get a closer look or attach the money to his thongs, or simply the both. He smiled as best as he could, sending a cheeky wink here and there while showing off his arse and spinning ‘round the bar. He had let the bliss take over here for that time. Because he needed it. Because if he didn’t do so, his performance wouldn’t be perfect and he would get a poor amount of money.

Then he got off the stage and found some man that looked decent enough to give a lap dance to. A man looked quite turned on and Harry just knew what to do to make him suffer even more. After all, he was the most popular stripper there and all the men wanted him (not that he would give himself to anyone in that way though). So his lap dance went well. A man wasn’t pushy or rough with him or anything similar. He kind of just sat there; all sweaty, holding Harry by his hips till Harry was grinding onto him, almost making him come.

And when Harry’s performance was finished, he was escorted by the loud applause and Harry couldn’t help but to grin. With the last bow to the crowd, he made his way backstage, bliss still clearly presented. Zayn had greeted him with a hug and a light peck on the lips once he was there and Harry just started to laugh because at least for now he was fine. He knew it’d be the whole other story once he woke up the next morning, but it didn’t matter now. Zayn was hugging him, crowd was pleased and it was really enough for now.

*

Harry woke up the next morning with Zayn by his side. It was nothing new. The two of them had casual sex every once in a while and it was never anything more. They had stayed friends and the sex was just one way of getting it all out of their system seeing as both of them weren’t in any kind of relationship. Harry quietly got out of the bed and picked his clothes up from the floor. He had taken a longer shower than usual, his muscles relaxing and his mind clearing a bit. He knew Zayn wouldn’t mind. Zayn was a heavy sleeper and Harry always left before he got a chance to wake up. Fortunately, his clothes were mostly clean seeing as he only wore them for hour tops, so he put them on as quickly as he could, wanting to get to his apartment before there were too many people to even walk.

Once he got his coat on that was _trying_ to keep him warm over generally cold weather, he was out of the apartment, locking behind himself (Zayn gave him the spare key so he could come and go whenever he wanted to) and getting out on the cool December air. Only twenty-five days were left till Christmas and Harry felt more alone than ever. It was sad really – thinking of the fact that he’ll spend a holiday like Christmas alone, but there was nothing he could do. Zayn was visiting his family and, well, Harry couldn’t do the same. He needed to make it by himself, just like he always did. He thought how it’d be quite good if he found some good book to read – or maybe some good movie (that wasn’t _Love Actually_ , even though it was his personal favourite… but it was too romantic and Harry didn’t need to feel sadder) to watch. He didn’t know, but he’d cope. He always did.

The streets were already crowded, even though it was only seven o’clock in the morning. Still, people worked and it was expected. Just as he was passing by the child that didn’t seem to stop crying and its mother was trying to soothe him, he stepped onto something. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked down. Under his feet was a flier. It was smooth yellow and red and it had a little bow drawn on the top. That’s what Harry could see at least. He leaned down and picked it up.

_Bring your stamped letter for Santa to a Macy’s Department store!  Make sure it is addressed to Santa at the North Pole and drop it in the Red Santa Mail Box.  For each letter they receive to be sent to Santa, Macy’s will donate $1.00 to the Make a Wish Foundation!  They will then deliver all of the letters to the Post Office to be sent to the North Pole!_

Harry’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise. He just heard of things like that, but never seemed to address them because why would he? It was for the kids – kids who believed in Santa Claus and believed miracles were to happen. Harry Styles wasn’t a kid. He was far from it. So of course he had never addressed Macy’s Santa Box. He was an adult after all. Still, without a second thought, he put the flier into the pocket of his coat and continued his journey to his flat. He didn’t know why he did it. Sometimes he just surprised himself.

His apartment wasn’t the warmest place in the world when he came in. He’d spent a little time in it to be warm enough so it wasn’t really surprising. He took off his coat and put it on the hanger. He turned up the heat because it wasn’t really in his best interest to catch a cold. It was a nice apartment. Seeing as he always earned a decent amount of money, he saved the money to buy himself an apartment in months. Till then, he’d lived with Zayn who wasn’t the best roommate ever, but Harry was grateful for letting him stay there regardless. Zayn was always there for him and, if he was being quite honest, he didn’t know how he would survive some things without him. He was the first person he met once he got into all the stripper business and he was the only one that was somehow normal really. Because staying normal once you become a stripper was hard. And Harry learned that. And he’d tried to stay sane. He still kept his eyes wide open and he still tried to think of better solutions. But he was a stripper for such a long time (not long like some others, but it was long for him) and it was just hard to get out of it – especially when you didn’t have any other job to do.

Harry threw himself onto the beige couch in the living room and closed his eyes, thinking that maybe he could get some good sleep for once. The truth was, he couldn’t get a good night’s sleep at Zayn’s. He didn’t know why, but he’d always wake up early and he couldn’t get back to sleep even if he tried. So he tried his best to catch some sleep because he had the whole day in front of himself. He didn’t have anything to do and also, he didn’t have a show that night because, well, he wasn’t the only stripper there and the others had to get a chance too. Harry wasn’t complaining though. Just as he was about drift off, his mind registered the flier he picked up on the street. And just like that, his eyes opened. He blinked rapidly as he tried to think of the reason why he’d actually taken it. His brain wasn’t exactly in the best condition, right? He bit his lip. Maybe… maybe he could try to write it. It wouldn’t hurt anybody. And no one would read it anyways. It was for a donation after all and maybe it would be a good way to get all of his thoughts out. He needed… something. And seeing as he couldn’t talk with anybody about it (main reason being that nobody would understand him… not really), this seemed like a good option. So he picked himself off the couch and went to his room, looking for a plain piece of paper. After a few minutes, he had barely found it in desk’s drawer. He sat on a chair and found his old pen and ink. He just preferred it more. It was kinda magical to him. Almost nobody used them anymore and he just wanted to feel special – at least with something. With one last intake of a breath, he started writing.

_Dear Santa,_

 

_It seems weird to say that, seeing as I’m a grown man and writing ‘dear Santa’ on top of it makes me sound like a child. I know nobody will read this, so maybe being childish for once in a while doesn’t seem like a bad thing after all. As I’m probably going to Hell already, writing this will maybe make me seem more as a human. Or someone who’s done something better with his life. I’m 18 years old and I’m a stripper. I’m a lost cause. I wish that nobody has to live like this because nobody deserves it – except for me. I’ve been living this life for a year now. My parents decided to kick me out of the house because I’m gay. Seems a bit funny, innit? So maybe I really did deserve this kind of life. Being gay isn’t acceptable for most of the people and, even though it would be so much better if things weren’t this way, it’s the only truth. I only finished high school, so what else was left for me to do? I had to go somewhere and, the truth is, I needed money and being a stripper brings me a lot of it. I don’t like it. I actually hate it and I wish I could do anything else. But I’m a failure and I’m stuck living like this. I don’t love my life. I wish I could trade with anyone else. It’s not helping that I don’t have anyone. There is only my friend Zayn, but he’s just that – a friend. I want someone who I can call mine, kiss under the mistletoe for Christmas and just spend some time with. I’ll spend my Christmas alone, just like always, and I wish so badly that I don’t have to watch Christmas films alone or eat alone once the hand hits midnight. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I should’ve already accepted the fact that my life has come to this. Maybe I should forget about my dreams of going to some prestigious University. That will never happen, no matter how much money I have._

_My family stopped caring long ago. I’m alone. I don’t know how to make the life better for myself anymore. I don’t think there is that possibility and it makes me quite sad. I’m sorry, Santa, that I’m writing this because it doesn’t make much sense and all this, is just a jumble of words. But maybe I needed this. Maybe, after I’m done writing this, I’ll feel better. Or I’m just lying to myself, just like I always do. Anyways, if anyone’s reading this (which I doubt) I’m sorry you had to read about my miserable life. I hope the donation will repay for the pain._

_With love,_

_Harry Styles_

 

Harry put the pen down and leaned against the chair. He didn’t want to reread it. It wasn’t worth it anyways. Even if he had made mistakes, even if he said things that he’d maybe regret later, he didn’t want to reread it. So he folded it so it could fit in the red envelope that he had found along with the paper and put it in it. Neatly, he wrote the address on it and, even though the whole thing seemed more than ridiculous, it was kind of nice. And Harry didn’t really regret it. He got up, deciding to put it in the box right away. He didn’t want to waste time because, well, it was pointless. It didn’t matter if he sent it today or tomorrow, but he just wanted to kind of get rid of it. He wrote it – all he had to do now is send it. So he picked his coat up again (he spent too little time in his apartment. Really) and was outdoors again in mere seconds. It was even colder, if that was possible. He tucked the envelope in the pocket of his coat and started walking towards the nearest Department Store. He didn’t have a car because he felt like he would just be wasting money for something that he wouldn’t use that much anyways. Maybe it seemed a bit weird for a boy his age not to want to own a car, but if he ever needed a lift there was Zayn – in times like this, he preferred walking.

Streets were a bit emptier than they were an hour ago, most of people already at work by this time. Still, there were good amount of them and he mostly saw children taking their moms or dads at the toy stores. Harry had an unpleasant flashback, remembering that one time he wanted the most popular toy when he was six years old and it took days for his mom to buy it to him. They didn’t have a huge amount of money back then and Harry’s parents were fighting quite badly and the toy was expensive, but his mother agreed to buy it for him anyways. Harry would never understand what made her change her mind about him in such quick amount of time. He shook those thoughts away.

Department Store was crowded. People were already doing some Christmas shopping, there were teenage girls shopping just because they could and there were children running around and embarrassing their parents. Harry smiled though. It was a nice occurrence. Being around such different people was nice and he really needed that sometimes.

He’d found Macy’s Santa Letter Box a few minutes later, all big and red and just inviting you to put your letter in it. There were kids and their parents all over it, fighting who will put their letter first. Harry waited by the side till he could put his letter in peacefully. He had walked towards it slowly and once there, he took a deep breath, thought of what he was doing one more time, and put the envelope in it.

Harry Styles left the Store without any expectation, not even knowing how much his life was about to change.


	2. Louis

Louis groaned in frustration and ran fingers through his messy, tangled hair. He was pissed and tired and all he wanted was to go home. But no. That wasn’t exactly possible because his boss told him to stay in. He had to sort all those letters that came in every day. And there were _so fucking many_ of them that Louis felt like he was never going to sort them out. He didn’t understand those people that had sent them. Okay, he understood children. They believed letters were really going to get to Santa because ‘Santa’s real’ and you couldn’t tell them differently. Don’t get him wrong, he loved children, he really did, but when the frustration took over him, everything annoyed him to bits. But then, truth was, there were many letters that adults sent, too. It was weird. Louis would take a peak sometimes and it was like when children were whining about how they couldn’t get their favourite toy, so they wanted Santa to bring it, but the only difference was that they whined about their life because ‘they had too much money’ and ‘they didn’t know what to wear on their fancy dress party’ and it was all just ridiculous and sometimes it was entertaining, but most of the time it was just frustrating. Adults were worse than children in some ways and Louis just wanted them to hear themselves and think about what they were to say before actually saying or writing it.

Louis wasn’t poor. Not really. Macy’s was paying well, just enough for him to live on his own, but he didn’t have money to throw around. There were people in the world that were starving and haven’t had the half of what he had, so he never complained. He thought about everything and, till the most of people were right, snobby pricks (at least in this city), there were people that always cared and were good ones, even if they didn’t have that much money. So that was what Louis appreciated – a personality, an effort that a person gave in anything and the way that the person threated the other people. Louis was always the one to observe people before deciding if they were good enough and worth his time. Maybe it sounded a bit selfish and bitchy, but he liked to take his time. Once he opened himself up though, he was carefree and loud and fun and he would give his life for his friends.

Liam and Niall were their names. They were all living near each other and they were together daily. Well, except from times like this – when Louis had to work longer. He didn’t quite like his job, not really. He thought he could do better. But for now, this is what he had. And he needed money to pay the rent and bills and everything else, so quitting wasn’t on his list of priorities. After all, it wasn’t such a shitty job. He had just hated going through all those letters and it usually took him the whole night to sort them out because there were thousands of them. He was already working for freaking two hours and there were still more than half of them to sort and he didn’t like that at all. His boss couldn’t afford paying more for two people, so he would pick only one to go do this. Unfortunately, he picked Louis this time and even though that his pay check would be higher next month, he didn’t want to do this and it was boring and he couldn’t even listen to music because his boss would murder him if he did. Louis didn’t know what the fuck the man had against music but he had never dared to ask so he just let it be.

He had sighed and opened another plain, white envelope. Even though it had maybe seemed rude and like he was looking into someone’s privacy, it was his job. He was ‘Santa’ and he was just opening letters, reading them a bit and then sorting them in boxes. He also needed to know the exact same number of them because of the donation thing (even though, let’s be honest, all money didn’t go there, but at least some of it did), so yeah, it was quite of a job to do. He put one more letter in the box and then leaned against the wall behind him. His eyelids were close to shutting but Louis couldn’t let himself fall asleep. Although he had barely gotten some sleep last night and the whole day at work was busy and this was just too tiring. He looked at the pile of letters beside him and sighed because it had seemed like it wasn’t getting smaller, only bigger and Louis didn’t like that. He just wanted to go home and sleep for at least ten hours and then have a lazy day because he didn’t work tomorrow.

And Christmas was in twenty-five days and his family would come to visit and he just wanted everything to be in place. It seemed like time was passing faster than usual and that made Louis anxious. What if his family came into dirty, unadorned flat? What if he didn’t do anything right? Because he wasn’t the tidiest person in the world, but he wanted for his flat to look like something, at least for Christmas. Okay, so maybe he was panicking way too early. There _were_ twenty-five days until Christmas and it was enough time to do just that. Right? He ran a hand down his face and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths and trying to get his watchfulness back. He opened his eyes again and his gaze fell on bunch of letters again. He’d scanned the pile for a moment and it was then that crimson red envelope caught his eye. It was different. All the others were simply white and not original at all. So maybe he was caught a bit off guard because someone was actually being a bit creative or different, without actually knowing it. So he had extended his hand far enough to take it. Fortunately, the pile stayed in place which was weird really because the envelope wasn’t on the top of the pile, but Louis thought he wouldn’t care even if it wasn’t so. He was turning it around a few times before finally catching the address of a sender. Which was weird too because nobody wrote theirs. This intrigued Louis though.

_Harry Styles_

_Byward Street 54, London_

Louis didn’t know what to do exactly. He wanted to open the letter, if he was being honest, but at the same time, something in the pit of his stomach told him not to. He didn’t know why though. He had always opened them without much as a glance and now… well, he felt sick. It was something about the name and something about that handwriting, written with pen and ink that got him feeling like that. His handwriting was nice – a lot nicer than Louis’ – but there was just that _something._ Just those few words looked like person wasn’t the happiest one in the world. And Louis always knew the way to _read_ the handwriting, even if he didn’t know it well. So he didn’t know what to do. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and sucked at it slightly. He finally gave in then. He ripped the envelope open (carefully though, because it was too nice and handwriting was too nice for him to ruin it just like that). He unfolded the plain, white paper in his hands and started reading words written with black ink.

Louis was sure his mouth were hanging opened the whole time. He was surprised and shocked and everything was a bit overwhelming and sad and Louis felt like fucking crying. So he did. Once he felt the tears welling up in his eyes, he didn’t try to stop them. He’d let them fall because the boy’s story was sad, devastating even. Louis didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect it at all. He’d always read the same boring, snobby letters, but this. This was so different and so painful and Louis didn’t know what to do exactly. One tear dropped on the paper, just down beside the name. Louis was shaking by the time he had read the whole thing. Maybe it shouldn’t have affected him so much – especially because the person behind those words was a complete stranger to Louis. And Louis didn’t cry because of strangers. But his story. His story was way too much for Louis to handle. So he’d let the tears fall. Because there was nothing else for him to do. He would just be bottling it all inside and he didn’t want that. Not really.

He read the letter over and over again, being mesmerized with the words the more and more times he read it. And sadder, if that was possible. He didn’t know what it was, but the words took him in, wrapped around him and held him there. He was helpless. He wanted to do something – anything – to make this boy (he was still a boy, even though he sounded so much older) happy. He wanted to respond. But that would be creepy. A guy had thought nobody would read his letter and if Louis responded, well, he would just crash his dreams. Still, the Harry guy didn’t have anyone. He was alone and that was what hit Louis the most. Because he didn’t know what he would do without Liam or Niall. He’d always needed someone around. Being alone seemed like the last option. Also, a guy was a stripper and thrown out of his own house because of being gay.

Louis was speechless, all in all. He didn’t know if he would be able to take all the things boy had – and only at the age of eighteen. Louis was going to be twenty-one in twenty-four days and he had barely gotten away from his home at the age of twenty. Living at the age of eighteen on his own was never an option. But this boy didn’t have options. He had to do it. And he couldn’t get a proper education. Instead, he became a stripper. And no matter how hard Louis tried to wrap his head around that, it was unsuccessful because it had seemed impossible. But it was life and some people had shitty lives. And Louis felt sorry. Oh, he never felt sorrier for someone in his entire life. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the boy’s past. Maybe it was what the boy did for a living. Maybe it was the fact that boy was alone. And maybe it was all of the above. So Louis did the only thing that he thought was right. He folded the paper again, put it in the envelope and saved it in the pocket of his coat. Then he’d got back to the rest of the letters, the one particular on his mind the whole time.

*

“Wait… let me get this straight. You stole a letter, from some kid and from the ones that have to be in Macy’s right now and you’re just gonna… write back?” Liam asked disbelievingly while drinking his already afternoon coffee. Liam and Louis were at Louis’ flat, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. It was already two o’clock in the afternoon because Louis slept ‘til one. It wasn’t really weird. Louis had worked ‘til almost two am, so it was expected. Louis had just shrugged and hid his red face with a mug filled with his favourite tea. Liam was blinking way too hard for his liking and he looked like he might just explode. “Louis! What do you think you’re doing?! It isn’t like the kid wanted you to read it! You should’ve left it where it belonged. I really can’t believe you sometimes.”

“He’s not a kid.” Louis mumbled. “He’s a boy, yeah, but he works as a bloody stripper, Li, and his life’s miserable. I needed to do something! I couldn’t just leave the letter and forget about it! It’s fucking impossible and I don’t expect you to understand. I really don’t. But the only thing I’m expecting from you is not to judge me. Is that so hard?” Okay, so maybe he was overreacting. But he had every right to do it. No, it _was_ a right thing to do. So he was sending draggers Liam’s way and he could see him wincing. Liam just shook his head and offered Louis a small smile.

“Fine, I’ll let it go. But don’t come crying to me if the guy’s actually lying and it turns out he just wanted someone’s attention for God knows what. Just don’t rush anything, Lou, okay?” Louis knew Liam was only concerned for him. He always was. But Louis didn’t need this. He saw the written words – Liam didn’t. So Liam had no right to judge before knowing anything.

“Whatever, Liam. You don’t know anything, so stop trying to be smart for once.” He snapped. That had left Liam shocked. His brown eyes widened as he put his cup of coffee on the table. Louis wasn’t okay. He had too much of it on his mind and he still didn’t know what was exactly a right thing to do and he hated the most of it and it was just too much. He felt overprotective over the boy he had never met and that was new. He would usually listen to Liam and just agree with anything his best friend said, but not this time. This was something completely new and different.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I never expected that from you, Louis.” He stopped for a mere second before continuing. “I’m just going to go now.” Louis didn’t try to stop him. Maybe it made him a shitty friend and maybe Liam was right in some sense, but the boy who wrote that letter was nothing but honest and Louis just couldn’t take Liam’s words. They’d stung. It might’ve as well been directed to him. It was just like that and no, Louis couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He tried to get rid of his thoughts and get back to his tea that was already cold enough. The letter was still in the pocket of his coat. He didn’t get it out once he got home because he was too knackered to do so.

He felt guilty. He’d admit that much. Liam was still his best friend and he shouldn’t have let him go like that. But he knew Liam will stop being mad in no time and they’d get back to normal. It was a minor fight that was able to get solved easily. He knew Liam is probably with Niall now, discussing Louis’ odd behaviour, so going to Niall wasn’t really a solution right now. So he did what he wanted to do since he got the letter. He took it out of the pocket and read it over one more time. Then he went to his room and got a plain paper that was right beside his computer. He had never used pen and ink, but now, it seemed like a good opportunity. He didn’t know why the boy wrote with it, maybe he just liked it that way, but Louis was glad regardless.

 

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you didn’t expect this. I know you probably think this is quite odd and weird and whatnot, but I felt like I should write back. See, I’m no Santa – not in that way at least. I work at Macy’s. Job’s shit, to be honest, but it pays well and I need money, so I took it. Aren’t we a bit similar here? Anyways, I was the one that was chosen to work longer and sort all the letters and, believe me, I would do anything but that, but there was no choice._

_Your letter was standing out of all the others. That red envelope is what drove me into and I opened it. I’m sorry if it seems rude and impolite, but that’s my job. And I read your letter. And it left me completely shocked and speechless. I don’t think I’ve ever read something sadder in my life. It brought tears to my eyes and I just read it over and over again and it was even more shocked every time I did. Let me tell you something, Harry. You are not alone now. If you want, you have me. Because I’ll be there for you, even if it’s through such things as letters. You seem like such an amazing guy and I just can’t believe that you live such life at the age of 18. I am almost 21 and I barely get through everything everyday. I admire you. Maybe your job isn’t something I would do. Maybe being alone is something I can’t really imagine. Maybe not having family is just so unbelievable to me because I have 4 sisters, 2 brothers and a mother and I was always a father-figure to them._

_But I’ll be here. With you. With whatever you need – even if it’s just a conversation. I won’t be the person who tells you what to do because that’s not my place. I can’t make you quit working as a stripper. But I can help you. And just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay. I’m gay myself and I accepted that, just like my family. Your family doesn’t deserve_ you _if they didn’t do the same and I truly can’t believe how much of a shit parents they are. But keep believing. Never lose faith. Because that’s exactly what you need in times like this. And I’m here. Don’t forget that either. But only if you want me to be._

_With love,_

_Louis Tomlinson, your ‘Santa’_

Louis had reread what we wrote one more time before flooding it and finding a white envelope (don’t judge him, he didn’t have the red one) and put the letter in it. He wrote his and Harry’s address, careful enough not to write it wrong. He nodded like he was trying to encourage himself, grabbed the coat and went to the post office, hoping he’d succeed.


	3. Harry/Louis

**(Harry)**

_Dear Louis,_

_I don’t know what to write exactly. This came as a shock to me. No. I really didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect anyone to care. Even though there was this slight possibility that the letter will actually be read by someone, I didn’t count on anyone to show any interest in it – or in me. One part of me is pleased that it’s not like that and the other is a bit torn whenever I should trust you or not. You are a stranger after all. I trusted too many people before just to let my guard down and let it all out. I’m sorry if I seem rude or something, but I would like to know you a bit better before we have any deep conversations. Look at me, already assuming we’ll have them, even though you didn’t point it out anywhere. Sorry if I misinterpreted your words. You can just tell me if that’s the case._

_I don’t know what to write exactly. I already told you what I do and how old I am and my name and, basically, you know almost everything. I know I may seem like a grumpy and sad person, but I swear I’m not usually like that. I like to think I’m much funnier in person. Hopefully, because it would be quite bad if I’m like this all the time. Though, yeah, I hate my life and I wish I could redo all of it… but I can’t, so I’m trying to deal with it somehow. I know I’m not really allowed to complain because there are people who live more miserable lives than I, but it hurts, you know? Or you don’t, I don’t know. Just… it’s good to let my feelings out like this. It makes things so much easier, you have no idea. I’m quite happy I don’t have to work tonight though. The rest comes as good sometimes. I need it, y’know, even if it may seem like it’s an easy job to do. Believe me, it’s not. It’s hard to please all those people that come every night. It’s hard to make enough cash. Sometimes we have our bad days and it really do ends badly – with small amount of money we get. And boss isn’t please then, too. So it’s a loss for everyone. That’s why we need breaks sometimes. It would be the death of us if we’d perform every night._

_I don’t know what this turned out to be, sorry. I’m just complaining about my job and explaining everything and I know that it isn’t exactly fun. Ignore it if you want. I won’t mind._

_With love,_

_Harry Styles_

“Hey, mate, you going out tonight?” Zayn asked when his head appeared in Harry’s room. Harry’s head shot up from the computer screen and looked at Zayn’s pleading eyes. He wasn’t out for months now, except when he had to work, and maybe it didn’t seem like a bad idea. But Harry just didn’t feel like it – he never did – and he didn’t want to be the grumpy companion like he always was. To be honest, he was out just a few times since he was eighteen and maybe that wasn’t exactly normal for a boy his age, but he liked it like that. So he shrugged and got back on the stupid Christmas game he was playing.

“I don’t feel like it.” He mumbled. He could hear Zayn huff in annoyance and he’d already known what was coming next. Whenever he rejected him, Zayn would give him a lesson about life and fun and living the fullest and whatnot. Harry knew the speech by the hand and it was pointless to listen to it again, but if he interrupted Zayn, Zayn would be even more pissed, so that wasn’t the solution. He’d just have to suffer through it again, he guessed.

“You say that every time, Harry. Every time I ask you out, your response is the same. You never go out anymore, Harry. No, wait, that’s not correct, too. I don’t even know where you are anymore because you’re not in your apartment either. Why wouldn’t you want to hang out with your mates just once? We all miss you. I only see you at work or at my flat, but we don’t even communicate anymore, Harry. Please, just try? If you really don’t feel like it, you can go back whenever you want. I won’t stop you.” Harry knew it wasn’t fair to him. He knew it wasn’t. But Zayn didn’t understand him, not quite. Zayn actually liked his job and he felt good in his body and he felt good doing it. He wasn’t Harry. He was always confident and happy and satisfied. He made his life so much better. He had family. He had everything he could ask for. And, whenever Harry went out, he felt like he was celebrating his shitty life. He felt like he was saying that he was more than happy with that. And no, he didn’t want that. He would rather spend his nights in his bedroom, playing games, than to do… _that._ He looked Zayn in the eyes and tried to make him understand, even though he knew that wouldn’t happen.

“I’m sorry, Zayn, but I’ve already told you. God, I don’t know how many times I’ve told you, but I have. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to drag you all down with me.  I’m no fun and I don’t really want to have fun. Just leave me alone, yeah? If you really want to hang out with me so much, then we can do it in our flats, yours or mine. I know you’re not there a lot and I know you have a life, but you got to understand me, Zayn. I don’t want to go out and get drunk. It’s just not me and I have enough of it on the work nights. This is better for me. It really is.” Zayn stared at him blankly for a few long moments till his eyes finally moved towards some object behind him and then back onto him. Brown eyes were a bit softer now and Harry liked that. That meant something good. It always did.

“Okay, okay. I’m letting it go for now. But we’re going to hang a bit more, you hear me? I don’t want to just be your fuck buddy. You know, because I think we would be good friends as well. I mean, we are friends, but I feel like I don’t know you well enough, yeah?” He said with a trace of a smile on his face. Harry smiled a bit in return and nodded.

“Yeah.”

*

_Dear Harry,_

 

_I’m glad I didn’t scare you off. I wouldn’t like that too much, if I’m being honest. You seem like a good person and I love talking to good people. I’m sorry in advance if I come out as a bit of ramble-y and stuff. I like to ramble. Usually, I talk nonsense and you probably won’t understand me most of the time, but don’t worry about it. I don’t understand myself either sometimes._

_You’re not boring, you really aren’t. I quite enjoy reading your letters, even though I only received two, but it’s good. It’s a distraction really and writing back makes me feel like I’m doing something right. Okay, I don’t know what you exactly do in your free time and I’m just assuming this is something you want, but it feels like that, y’know? Anyways, enough about that. What I wanted to originally say was, I can only imagine how hard it must be to do what you do. I never doubted that, but you only confirmed it. My job seems like a piece of cake comparing to yours. Hope everything turns out well though. I’m glad you get to rest. Rest is good. I work five days in week and that’s fine because I have weekend free (except when I have to arrange letters), so I get to do whatever I want. Not that I do anything too fun. Maybe go out with my mates, if I have an urge, or drown myself in TV shows and such._

_Do you watch Supernatural? I just love it. I’m still trying to catch up with episodes though. In an arrear here. But yeah, I’ll catch up with it already. It’s my weekend activity, I guess. Oh goodness, sorry. I’m probably being annoying right now. I warned you about my rambling, so that’s what I’m doing now. I get off the topic easily, so I’m really sorry. However, I hope you have a splendid day because rest and everything and, when you go to work, I hope you do your best. Because I believe you can. Maybe it’s not your dream job, but you at least try. And I really admire that. Have a good day, young Harold. :)_

_With love,_

_Louis Tomlinson_

Harry couldn’t contain the smile from appearing on his face. It was wide and bright and shiny and it was happy and Harry kind of liked that. Even though his face started to hurt, he didn’t stop smiling. Because Louis was the reason of that smile. That quirky, light letter he’d sent made Harry feel all better. He could feel that lad behind the letter was being himself. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t pretending. And he was being totally cheery and happy and maybe Harry needed just that. He shook his head a little at Louis’ silliness and reread it over and over again. Louis didn’t judge him. He didn’t care what he was doing for a living, nor did he give a flying fuck about Harry’s grumpiness or such. He kept talking to him – even as something random as TV shows – and Harry felt like Louis wanted to talk to him. He didn’t experience that with nobody except from Zayn and still, this was somehow different. Louis was a stranger. Louis didn’t know him, not fully at least, and he kept talking to him.

 It was just letters, simple as that, and it was okay. It was refreshing and new and Harry liked it. Maybe a bit too much and maybe he should stop before he’d gotten too attached because God knows he got attached way too soon, but he knew he couldn’t. He just couldn’t let Louis go – not now at least. And besides, the lad seemed like he wanted to continue whatever this was and Harry wouldn’t be the one to complain.

He got up from the couch, leaving the letter on the coffee table in front of it. His flat felt a bit empty, especially when Zayn was here so often, or, well, when Harry was actually here, but he liked that he had read the letter by himself. He didn’t want anyone else to read it and besides, it would be disrespectful to Louis. It was their private conversation and it felt good to have something private. He was urgent to write back, just like he’d always been, and he’d already have a paper, pen and ink prepared. He’d always written back the same day because it usually took a day for letter to reach Louis. They didn’t actually live so far away, they lived in the same city after all, but it took for letter to reach both of them. Harry waited for it like a child waiting for a candy and yeah, maybe he was kind of ashamed of it because he was an adult and it was _just_ a letter from Louis. It shouldn’t mean so much but somehow, it did. Harry decided not to think about it. It would only cause more unnecessary thoughts he didn’t need anyway.

**(Louis)**

_Dear Louis,_

_You most certainly are NOT annoying. In fact, you’re quite funny and a great company indeed, even if it’s just through something as simple as letters. You can ramble all you want. I really don’t mind. If you didn’t notice, my letters are long-ish too, so we’re on the same page here._

_No, I don’t watch Supernatural, but I might actually start, now that you’ve mentioned it. I’m playing too many computer games for my own good. That’s what I do in my free time. Not really going out. To me, it’s enough that I have to be in the club while working, so going out in clubs isn’t so appealing to me. Maybe it sounds weird because Zayn is going out and everyone that I work with is, but I just don’t feel like it? I don’t know, maybe there is something wrong with me after all. I’m not trying to change it though. I wouldn’t have it any other way, if I’m being honest. Maybe it would be better for me if my social life was a bit more extended, but I just don’t feel like changing my habits, if that makes sense. I know that makes me quite weird and whatnot, but I started not to give a fuck about what other people think of me. What I think about myself seems more important. People are people and people are sometimes heartless and stupid and people aren’t the ones to always listen to. They’ll always say something rude about you. There will always be judgements and not everybody will love you._

_Okay, yeah, I definitely care about what my family thinks about me and their opinions hurt. I wish I could do the same with them, y’know. It would make things so much easier. But I can’t. They are still my family no matter how much they despise me. I still keep hoping things will change and they’ll accept me and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. But I know better. I know it’s just my wishful thinking and we will never be the same. I’m coping with that though. In fact, you’re making it easier. You’re here and I can tell you basically anything and you won’t judge me. So I thank you again. Because you’re here, even though you don’t know me. And you suffer through my unrelated rambling, so there’s that._

_I’m really sorry this turned out to be ramble about people and how much I despise people sometimes. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. I hope you didn’t get much bored._

_With love,_

_Harry Styles_

 

“LOUIS! PLEASE! GODDAMMIT, LOU, HURRY UP!” Okay, so, Niall was annoying – sometimes more than usual. And he was like this now. And no, Louis didn’t like it at all. All he wanted to do was _sleep._ But no. Of course he couldn’t do that because Niall had one of his crises – if you can call seeing a pretty boy crisis. According to Niall, it was. So, he would drag Louis along with him whenever he wanted to stare at some guy for hours. Louis wasn’t really keen of doing that, but Liam was off to Sophia’s every weekend. He wished he worked at Macy’s right now because really, seeing Niall drool over a guy was kind of annoying and irritating, especially when he didn’t even dare to do as much as introduce himself to a guy.

It was pathetic and Louis was going mad. He didn’t know what to exactly do about it though. He wasn’t a matchmaker. He, himself, wasn’t in that many relationships to know about them and, even though he never said it, Niall hoped he’ll help. Liam was hopeless with it too because Sophia, his girlfriend, made a first step. They were quite a pathetic group of friends, if Louis thought more about it. Okay, not _completely_ pathetic, but romance pathetic. A one couldn’t believe that one actually had a girlfriend. It was kind of a miracle really.

“Okay, okay, gee. I’m coming.” He threw the first jumper that came into his hands over his head and put on his trainers, getting out of room as quickly as he could. He knew that if he was late one bit more, he’d get possibly killed. Niall was one impatient lad… and horny. He was standing in a hallway, hot on his feet, when Louis had approached and grabbed his coat. “You ready, lover boy?” He teased with a smirk playing on his pink lips. Niall nodded frantically and they were out of the warmness of the apartment, getting out on the cold, December air.

 

“Think he’ll ever notice me?” Niall asked as they were sitting on a branch in front of the café. In that particular café was one mysterious, handsome man that Niall was pinning after for what had seemed like ages now. The guy in front of them had jet black hair with fringe on a side and it made his hair look feathery and that was just working for him. He was tanned and had brown eyes that Niall talked about a bit too much for Louis’ liking. He had tattoos – numerous of them. In fact, he had half-sleeve done on his right arm and it seemed that it only attracted Niall even more. Louis could swear he saw a man he didn’t even know, growing up. Okay, not really. But he went from quiff to fringe, from a bit tattoos to whole bunch of tattoos, front trainers to boots and it seemed to Louis that guy liked to change his style quite a lot – or maybe they were just stalking him way too much.

“Well, if you keep just sitting here on this branch and not make a damn move, then no. Mate, you got to talk to him. I mean, what can go so wrong? The worst thing that can happen is that he doesn’t want to have anything with you and-“

“Exactly! That’s the worst thing and I can’t have that! I don’t think I would be able to handle a rejection from him. I want him, Louis, so fucking badly. And you should be the one to know this the best. So I can’t just go there and try to talk to him when I _know_ he’ll just laugh in my face. I mean, look at him! He’s gorgeous. What the fuck would he want to have with the guy like me? Maybe he’s not even gay. I don’t even know his _name_ , Tommo. It’s not as easy as that.” Niall sulked and crossed his arms over his chest. Louis groaned and tried to supress numerous insults that could come out of his mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time, he was a sassy bitch and his friends had gotten used to it, but now it wasn’t really a time.

“Look, you’ll probably never find out his name if you don’t talk to him. Try to sound normal, casual, not like you’re in love with him too much. Try to, I don’t know… pretend you’ve never seen him before. Or do something cliché like spilling your coffee all over him. Ugh, okay, I’m clueless. Just do something.” He leaned against the branch again and closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. It wasn’t an easy task though, especially when Niall was as hyper as ever. Niall whimpered slightly beside him and then shut up for few minutes… till he didn’t start having a panic attack.

“Oh my god, Louis, he’s getting up. Fuck, he never leaves this early. Why now, why now, why now??? Louis, move. We gotta go. He can’t see us.” He panicked and Louis just wished something or someone would bury him. He didn’t sign up for this, he really didn’t. He got up with a huff and started following Niall, getting real sick of everything. He wished things were a bit easier.

*

_Dear Harry,_

_Well that was a quite interesting rant, may I say. And maybe I agree with you. Is it weird if I say I’m kind of proud of you for ignoring their opinions? That’s a brave thing to do and most people can’t do that. We care about others’ opinions too much and we tend to change, just for the sake of it. We become something we’re not and that’s not something you feel comfortable with. So being yourself in front of everybody is something you should be very proud of. I’m usually always being my quirky, weird self, if that helps. So, basically, you’re not alone._

_I wish that your family accepted you for who you are. Gosh, you have no idea how much I want that. I can only imagine how much you miss them, and I wish I’m here to help, but, the fact is, there is nothing I can do. I wish I can change their opinion, but, if someone can, then you’re the one. Maybe try to talk to them? It won’t hurt. Try to get some sense through those thick skulls of theirs. They need to understand that you’re their son/brother/or whatever you are and see that you haven’t changed – that you’re still the same as before. They need to understand that your sexuality doesn’t change who you are. Make them, Harry. Make them see it. I believe that you can do it. You’re a convincing person. You only have to try. Okay, maybe it’s not that easy, but trying is the first step. Maybe you’ll fail, but don’t give up. Family relationship is the most important thing in the world. You can do it, Harry. I believe in you._

_With love,_

_Louis Tomlinson_


	4. Harry

Zayn stared at him for what seemed like the longest time. They were sitting on a couch in Harry’s apartment, Zayn opposite of Harry, on another couch. So, what happened was that Harry told Zayn about Louis and, well, Harry wasn’t sure he was so pleased. But it was fifteenth of December already and they had exchanged seven letters (yeah, he was counting, shut up) and Harry thought it would be a good idea to finally tell Zayn. Now, Harry wasn’t sure that it was such a good idea.

“You’re telling me that… you’ve written some letter, put it in Macy’s Santa box and some guy found it and now you’re talking to him? What the hell, Harry?! For all you know, he could be some serial killer or something! I thought you were more careful than that! Besides, you have me. Why do you need anyone else?”

“He’s not in this business, that’s why I need someone else!” He was shouting. Yes, he was angry. Nobody will insult Louis – especially not his best friend. Not when Louis had helped him so much. It was unfair to him and it was unfair to Harry. “You really think I would be that stupid to write someone who I didn’t trust to or know they were honest? Of course I wouldn’t do that, Zayn! Believe it or not, he’s almost twenty one year old lad for London who decided that I was worth talking to, regardless to what I do. Don’t you know how hard that to find is? He accepts me, Zayn, even though he’d never seen me or, better yet, met me.

“It’s a fucking lot and I appreciate it more than anything. And he’s a good company too, especially when you’re not so much here. I need a distraction. Besides, you’re the only one that has told me I need a life beside my job and computer games. So here I am, Zayn, talking to the guy that understands me and it’s willing to help me and he actually doesn’t judge me. I’m happier than ever, can’t you see it? So don’t just go and ruin it for me. I like it like this. I like him – a lot. And I know that sounds crazy and unreal and whatnot, but he’s there and he always knows when to say right words to make me feel worth myself. And I like him. He’s the part of my life now and I just can’t keep away from him, even if I try. So don’t take it away from me. Be happy for me because I am now.”

He was standing, with his hands curled into fists. His face was red from yelling and fury and everything that took over him in that moment. He wasn’t really sure what exactly came out of his mouth. He wasn’t aware of what he was saying – not completely, at least. But somehow, he knew it was all the truth. He was speaking from his heart. Maybe he didn’t think his words through. Maybe it all came out as a result of his anger, but it was true regardless.

Zayn was in shock. Harry could see it from the pure disbelief that his face was showing. His mouth were opening and closing constantly, but no words come out of them. It took him a few long moments to answer. “I… I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Haz, but I only worry about you. You know that. You’re like a little brother to me and I can’t just let you get hurt even more than you already are. I’m glad you’re happy. I really am. And I’m glad you’ve found someone who will make you like this. I’ve missed the old Haz. Hell, I don’t think I even know the real you. So hopefully, if he really does that to you and if he makes you feel loved, I hope I’ll be able to meet him. I’m so happy for you.” That was when he stood up and gave Harry a tight, brotherly hug and Harry accepted it with almost the same tight grip. He’d closed his eyes and smiled a little. Zayn was always there for him – he could never deny that. And maybe it was a good thing that he was so protective. Zayn was like a second family (but he could be the only one really) to him and the only person who was there through almost everything Harry’s been through. He was grateful for him – of course he was. He really wouldn’t trade him for anyone.

*

_Dear Louis,_

_You’re too sweet for your own good. I kind of like that. You’re making me feel like I’m worth something and that there’s still good people in this damaged world. I just had a fight with my best friend – if you can call it a fight. It was more “I’m shouting at you and you listen and then you apologise “kind of thing. It was about you. I told him I’m writing to you and everything and he thought it was dangerous and such. But I convinced him that you’re perfectly normal and that you make me happy, so that’s the good thing, I guess._

_I stopped trying to make up with my family a long time ago, Louis. I tried, I really did. Many times even. But nothing worked – we’re still the same. I don’t think anything will ever change but at least I have Zayn… and you. You’re always here and I really appreciate it. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me. Honestly, you’re keeping me occupied and busy and, most of all, you’re making me_ think. _I don’t know if that sounds weird or whatever, but you’re making me think and making me feel better about myself. So thank you, one more time, because you mean something to me, Louis. And I’m not sure if that’s such a good thing. I honestly stopped caring – maybe I’d never have. It’s just… I can talk to you so easily and you’re not judging me and it’s nice and relaxing. I’m sorry if this scares you or something. It shouldn’t but I’ll understand if it does. Okay, maybe you have a reason to be a bit scared, seeing as we haven’t even met and I don’t know so much about you and we’re not talking for such a long time really. It’s quite weird actually. We’re only talking for two weeks now. It seems longer, y’know? But I’m grateful to have you here and that you didn’t ignore my letter. I’m being a sap now, so I’ll finish with this._

_With love,_

_Harry Styles_

It was a good show – a good performance. The men in the club seemed more cheerful, more excited today. Maybe it was because Christmas was coming real close, so they were more relaxed and whatnot. All in all, Harry didn’t mind. It was the opposite actually. He was getting more money like this and more money made everyone more satisfied. It didn’t matter that he felt incredibly sad and guilty afterwards. It didn’t matter that he wanted to run away from the stage as soon as the blinding lights shone the stage and him. What mattered was that he got money and money got him everything, so he should’ve been satisfied himself. And he tried to assure himself in that. And he tried to remember Louis’ words and find the best in the situation. It was hard though – harder than usual, it seemed. Maybe it really was Christmas being close and him wanting to do just _something,_ some difference.

He’d watched all those _dancers_ backstage. He watched them all laugh and share jokes and their experiences and somehow, Harry stopped feeling like he belonged there. He gulped and turned around to see his boss staring at him – maybe even knowingly. And he felt brave, all of the sudden. He felt like he could do it. He was his own person, he had his dreams and he could make them happen. Of course he could. He could do anything he wanted to do, he decided. Maybe it wasn’t the most honest truth, but right at that moment, it had seemed like one and Harry wasn’t giving up this time. He walked towards Simon and looked him dead in the eye.

“Simon… I quit.” And that was it. Those were his last words he’d said to his now former boss. And he could swear he saw the glimpse of pride in his eyes. Even if his eyes were playing tricks with him, he felt even more relief. Everything would change from now on – he knew that much. But now, he had his own life to rebuild – and he’d do just that.

 

“Wait… you’re telling me you’ve quit??” Zayn asked, standing up from the already weak chair. It reminded Harry a bit of the situation from few days ago. He didn’t know in which position he was now really. If Zayn was going to shout at him, he could shout all he wanted. Harry wouldn’t get back to being a stripper… never again. “Harry, did you really think this through? Are you really sure you don’t wanna do this anymore? It brings you the money and at least you have a job like that, but like this…”

“I’ll be fine, Zayn. Like you said, this job paid a lot of money. And maybe I’ve opened the bank account along the way, just in case, and maybe I have some money saved that I can pay for the University with. And maybe I haven’t thought about this like before. I didn’t think there was any other option. I didn’t think there was a possibility for me to do anything else, Zayn, but now I think I do. I don’t want to be a stripper for the rest of my life. That was never my goal, and maybe I can change it now. I _want_ to. It’s the only thing on my mind and I’m unhappy like this and sometimes, I have a feeling I would be a lot of happier if I even worked at some café. Please Zayn, let me have the life I want.” With the smile that had taken over Zayn’s features, Harry knew he understood. And when Zayn hugged him so tightly yet again, he knew he’d be with Harry every step of the way. Harry couldn’t choose or find a better friend – he really couldn’t. Zayn was perfect the way he was and even though they had their fights and misunderstandings, they always found a way back to each other. They were best friends for life and Harry wouldn’t trade it for anything.

*

_Dear Harry,_

_You didn’t scare me, don’t worry. In fact, I think you’re being far too sweet for your own good. I want to thank_ you _for those kind words. They mean a lot, even if you may not believe it. But I love helping people and the fact that I’m actually helping someone gives me the greatest feeling in the world. And it’s you – the person so wonderful and amazing that deserves the whole happiness in this world. I’m pleased that I’m giving you some of it. That makes me incredibly happy, so we’re on the same page here._

_But I’m afraid, young Harold that I’m leaving you with this letter. Not forever of course! I couldn’t do that. But I’ll be gone for a while. See, I’m going to my family in Doncaster for Christmas and I’m leaving on 20 th which is the time your letter will probably get to me. They should’ve come here but the plans have changed. I wish I could say that I’ll be able to answer, but I don’t think I’ll have such luck. I’m sorry in advance and I promise you to answer you the second I get back. I wish that I don’t have to go but I haven’t seen my little sisters and my mum for a long time now and I just miss them. I also wish I don’t have to tell you this because I believe that someone talking about their family in this way hurts, but I think you shall know the truth. You mean a lot to me, Harry, and I already know that not talking to you for a week or two will be quite impossible and I just want you to know that I’ll think of you every step of the way. I promise you’ll be on my mind the whole time. It’s because you deserve it, Harry. And maybe because I don’t think I can stop thinking about you, even if I tried. So I’m leaving you with this. Let we pray that weeks pass faster than expected. :)_

_With love,_

_Louis Tomlinson_

No. Harry hadn’t cried. Of course he hadn’t. He wasn’t the one to cry over the person he’d never met because that person was leaving. Yet, that wasn’t so true. So he found himself with tears streaming down his face as he’d read the letter over and over again. He still tried to comprehend the words – still tried to tell himself they were real. It was stupid really. He shouldn’t be so sad. After all, Louis would get back and it’d only be two weeks. He’d get back and answer Harry. And they’d get back to their own routine. But that just wasn’t working for Harry. He couldn’t imagine going more than two days without Louis’ witty words, but now he was going to go through it for two whole weeks. Of fucking course he wasn’t satisfied and happy. This was so wrong. _So, so_ wrong. And even though it was a bit crazy and he understood that Louis needed to see his family, it was just tearing Harry apart. He hated it. He hated it so much. It was abnormal, he decided. He shouldn’t have gotten so attached. He knew it was wrong. But there was no turning back now. He was stuck here, with these… feelings that wouldn’t go away and it _sucked._ It just sucked and Harry wanted to scream and shout and just let it all fucking out. But he didn’t. He just sat there and stared at the letter till he finally decided that yeah, he should write back, even if Louis wasn’t going to replay. He deserved that much. So he took one more piece of white paper and pen and ink and started writing the words, not really caring if there are tears on them.

_Dear Louis Tomlinson,_

_I wish I could say that I don’t care. I wish I could just write “That’s great! Hope you have fun.”, but I can’t. I wish it doesn’t hurt so bad knowing I won’t hear from you for weeks. I don’t even know what my problem is. I shouldn’t feel this way. Hell, we’re not even talking for three weeks and look at me! I’m already an emotional wreck. I wish I could lie, y’know. After all, it’s so easy to lie over the paper, but I feel like if I’m lying to you here, it’s like I’m lying to you in person. And I’m not the best liar. So here I am, being bloody honest. I’ll miss you. A lot. I really don’t know how I’ll survive those weeks that I won’t talk to you. Maybe it really isn’t such a long time as it seems. Maybe it will really pass sooner than I think it will, but it hurts. I just want to be able to talk to you 24/7. That won’t be possible now and it just kills me. I’m sorry that I sound so desperate. You probably think I’m pathetic. But I just have to get it out._

_I’ve quit, did you know? I quit being a stripper and now I’m trying to find some good Uni to go to. I thought to tell you this, seeing as you’ve played a huge part in making that decision. I don’t know if I’ll succeed or not, but I really hope so. I don’t want to get back to my old life and you know that better than anyone. Anyways, I’ll miss you. Hopefully, time will really pass sooner and I’ll get to hear from you soon. Have a good vacation, Louis. You deserve it._

_With love,_

_Harry Styles_

When Zayn came over on twenty-third, Harry was still sulking. Zayn had found him curled up on the couch with his eyes casted on TV that was running some lame TV show. It would be an understatement to say that Zayn was more than worried. In fact, he worried him more than just for one day. Harry was like that the whole time and didn’t tell Zayn anything. Of course he didn’t – he wouldn’t understand. Even though Zayn was concerned and everything, Harry wasn’t breaking his carefully built walls down. Zayn didn’t like that.

“Harry, talk to me.” He demanded, sitting on an armchair next to couch. Harry looked at him blankly, his eyes saying nothing and everything at the same time. Zayn hated it. “Harry, please. You can’t be like this and expect me to just brush it off. I’ve known you for a long time and you were never like this. What’s bothering you? You know you can always talk to me. Besides, we talked about it.” Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at the screen again.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He murmured, not really paying attention to Zayn anymore. He just didn’t wanna talk about it. Why was it so hard to understand? He needed peace to drown his sorrows into it. Zayn was no help right now and he really, really wanted to kick him out. He couldn’t do that though and that was one big ass problem. “Look… just leave me alone okay? I’ll be fine. I just need my peace to wrap my head around everything that is going on. I would be really grateful if you would just… go out or something and leave me here to try and be myself again. I need it, okay?” And Zayn wasn’t going to argue anymore. He knew there was no use. Harry was stubborn and Zayn stood no chance here. So he nodded, carefully kissed Harry on forehead and left the flat in piece. He was still anxious though and he would be until Harry’s better.

 

On twenty-forth, Christmas Eve, Harry was alone – and loneliness was slowly killing him. He had a piece of cake that he baked because he was bored, in one hand and remote in the other. He was about to watch _Lady and Tramp_ and he knew that really wasn’t good idea, seeing as he was alone, but it was a better choice than _Love Actually._ That would just kill him even more. He pressed play and got comfy under the warm blanket and with piece of cake in his hands. He’d tried not to think how it would be better if there was someone with him – tried not to think how it would be better if _Louis_ was with him. He had really tried to get rid of the thoughts like that one, but they’ve just kept coming, not going away, and Harry just didn’t like that.

He wished things were different. He wished he met Louis on street or somewhere and that they’ve started an easy relationship. He wished it didn’t start through letters. Most of all, he didn’t want it to develop into something more. But it did and it bugged him like mad. The thing was, he always knew how he felt about a person and maybe he tried to deny it before finally giving in, but he knew. It was as simple as that. So of course he knew what he felt for Louis, even though he wished he didn’t because he knew nothing would ever come out of it. And it made him feel sad, he wouldn’t lie. But he hoped he’d get over it. He _had_ to get over it. Louis would never feel the same way. It was fucking impossible.

It was then that his bell rang. His head shoot up in surprise. Zayn left to see his family, so that couldn’t be him. And there was no one else, so who the fuck was that? After all, it was ten o’clock and that wasn’t the hour you were visiting someone at. But Harry got up regardless. It could be an emergency, you never know. It seemed like it took him hours to finally come to the doors and when he swung them open, he saw the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.


	5. Louis

Louis didn’t know what he was doing. He really didn’t. The only thing he was definitely sure of was that he missed Harry like crazy and somehow, all those letters didn’t seem enough anymore. He always spent Christmas Eve, and his birthday, with his family, just like Christmas. But thinking of the sad boy alone in the flat, feeling lonely and cold and no, Louis couldn’t handle that vision. It was enough to turn the tables. So what he did after that, was that he packed his suitcases once again, said goodbye to his mum and sisters without some further explanation, and hit the road back to London. He had learned Harry’s address by heart by then and it didn’t take him long to find his apartment’s number.

 So there he was, in front of Harry’s flat, waiting for Harry to answer. He half-hoped he wasn’t even home or that it was the wrong apartment after all, but the other half of him didn’t want that. His heart was beating too fast and he was sweating abnormally (and it was winter!) and he was too anxious to think properly. So when green eyes replaced plain, white door, Louis didn’t know if he was dreaming or not. Because really, the wide, green eyes were the most beautiful eyes he’d even seen and wild, chocolate curls that were falling down his face were the most adorable thing in the world. And okay, maybe he was a bit overreacting and maybe he was being a sap, but if the man in front of him really was Harry… well, Louis didn’t know what to think really.

“Are you Harry?” He half-whispered, his voice cracking at the end. The boy in front of him looked confused. His full lips made a pout and goodness, if Louis wasn’t crazy till now, now he definitely was. The boy nodded and yeah, Louis was nearly fainting. Because Harry was more perfect than Louis imagined and hell, how could he be enough for _that_? He gulped and tried to slow down his racing heart – without much of a success though. “I’m… I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.” Harry froze. His eyes had grown even wider and his mouth dropped open. It was like Louis was watching a scene from some cartoon. He knew he wasn’t any better though.

“Y-you’re L-Louis?” Harry stuttered in disbelief and Louis had to do everything in his power to fight a smile that was about to split his face in two.

“Yeah… yeah I am.” He decided to continue before Harry could ask any more questions. “I missed you. A-and I couldn’t really imagine Christmas without you, no matter how crazy that sounds. And thinking of you alone in this flat made me a fucking mess. I don’t know… I could’ve just written the letter and send it to you, though we both know that you wouldn’t receive it soon, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to meet you in person and be able to hug you and whatnot and just spend time with you on Christmas Eve. And if you’re bothered by it, I can always go. I’m sorry if this isn’t something you want. I should’ve asked you I know. I shouldn’t have just come like this-“

“Louis.” Harry’s deep, husky voice stopped him. “You’re rambling.” A small smile, almost smirk, was presented on Harry’s face and his eyes sparkled with a new kind of light. Seeing that made Louis smile, so his face finally split in two. The two boys stared at each other for a few long moments, before Harry (or Louis, they’re still arguing about that) took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Louis’ small waist, pulling him into a hug. Louis wrapped his own around Harry’s neck, burying his head in the crook of Harry’s neck. He had a nice smell.

They were holding each other like that for a while, just taking in each other’s senses and shapes and lines and curves and maybe Louis liked it a bit too much. He didn’t want to let go – not really. He felt safe in Harry’s big, strong arms. They held him with such a protection that Louis felt a bit dizzy. It wasn’t really fair what Harry was doing to him. It made him feel weak, what never usually happened. But he didn’t mind so much. Maybe he needed someone to protect him. Maybe- but he shouldn’t think so ahead. He doesn’t know where they were standing now, so why rush it? Louis cursed his own brain in his head.

Harry took a step back and Louis felt the warmness leaving him immediately. “C’mon. Let’s go inside.” Louis wasn’t the person you’ve had to tell twice. He followed Harry in his big flat. It really was a nice one. He shouldn’t be surprised though, seeing as Harry had a good pay check. He didn’t know what was going on now though. He made a mental note to ask Harry about it later. Harry led him towards living room where…. _Lady and Tramp_ was playing? Louis let out a chuckle that he just couldn’t hold inside. Harry turned around then to look at him with his eyebrow raised in a questioning matter.

“Nothing. You’re just watching _Lady and Tramp._ You’re so cute.” He didn’t really mean for the last part to come out, but his mouth were saying words faster than he could think. Harry gave no notice to it though. Instead, he smiled wider, _dimples_ getting into view and no, Louis didn’t think he could handle much of a Harry Styles anymore.

“Well, I didn’t watch it in fifteen years or so and I thought that tonight was a good day for it. Sorry for being so cute.” He said and winked and Louis laughed loudly. “Okay, you want to watch it or you want to talk and all?” They both knew the answer on that question. They both knew they needed to talk because, the more they avoided it, the worse it’d become. So Louis didn’t answer, but he followed Harry towards the couch where he turned off the movie, so it was silent again. Louis had taken a seat next to him, trying to make more space between them because he didn’t know how Harry was with everything and anything couple-y. “So… you’re here.” Harry said matter-of-factly and if it was a bit different, Louis would find a situation more than humorous.

“Yep… I’m here. Already told you the reason why.” Harry smiled and nodded, but then he bit his lip and looked down. Louis was nervous, he’d admit that much. He didn’t know what to expect. The gorgeous boy in front of him was more complex than any person he has met – maybe even more than himself. And, even though he wasn’t so hard to read, Louis still found it hard to see what he thought exactly. After all, he didn’t know Harry – he was far from it – and he couldn’t just tell by his expression what he was thinking. He wished he could though because all of this was way too confusing.

“I don’t know what to say. I mean, I have general idea  and I have a lot in my mind, but I just don’t know what I should say and what I shouldn’t. I don’t wanna scare you or anything. I really don’t want that, and I have a feeling I will if I tell you everything I think. Hell, it’s scary to me too.” Louis eyes had gone soft as he reached and touched Harry gently on the shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

“You can say anything you want, no matter what it is. You’re not going to scare me nor you have to be afraid of it. Just let it all out. I’m Louis – the same guy from the letters. I’m no different in person.” Harry looked at him again and, this time, there was a little smile, lingering just a bit. But it was enough for Louis. It meant something good and Louis needed _anything_ good.

“Okay… okay, I will.” Harry looked in front of him, staring at invisible point on the wall. “I know this’ll sound stupid and unreasonable and whatnot, but maybe I’ll feel better if I say it. Maybe I won’t. Maybe you’ll shout at me and leave me and tell me I’m nuts. I wouldn’t be surprised, but maybe I would be disappointed.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “But I don’t see you as a person like that. You seem like so much more and so much better than that. I hope you’ll understand me and at least try to leave in a nice way, if nothing else. Anyways, I… well, we’ve been talking for what? Eighteen days before you left? And, to be honest, it felt so much longer than that. I feel like I’ve known you for ages, Lou. It’s crazy. You’ve become a part of my life so fast and so soon that I didn’t even notice the change. It was like you were always there. I don’t know why nor do I know how. But it’s good. I like it. No, I love it and I wouldn’t change it. I really wouldn’t. You’re so amazing and you’ve helped me so fucking much and I really don’t know what I would do without you.

“And then there’s this thing that is called feelings, I guess. And I guess I have them… for you. They kind of are just there and they’re growing second by second and it scares me, Louis. I don’t really know you. I’m just seeing you for the first time in person and no matter how gorgeous and breathtaking you are, I… I don’t know what to do about it. Gosh, this sounds like some cheep, cheesy romantic movie. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, I swear. I’m just so damn confused and I know you’ll never feel the same and it’s kind of killing me inside, but I’m trying to accept that.” Louis was quiet for a few painful seconds before speaking, his voice higher than usual.

“Why would you accept that?” He asked because he was still preceding Harry’s words. They seemed almost unreal, surreal and he was absolutely clueless of what to say next. He kind of hoped Harry was going to be the one to initiate him. But the boy just stared at him with his wide eyes, waiting for him to continue. He should’ve known better. “Have you thought that maybe it _is_ like that? Okay, I’ll admit, I didn’t. I thought you’ll just want to be a friend or something, not… more. And I wanted more. I _still_ want more. You don’t sound crazy, at least not to me because I understand. You’re all the things above and more.

“I like everything about you – your way of treating the life, the way you get through everything, your bravery, your ability to stay strong and the fact that you try to find a light in everything. All these things make you, _you_ and I admire them a lot. You’re so special and amazing and I just want to be able to hold you and kiss you and make you feel better and maybe make you see love because you deserve every bit of it. I don’t know if I’m the right person. I don’t know if I’m going to succeed, but it’s all in trying. And just thinking that I could try something with you is reliving. If you want to try… Harry I’m here.” Harry’s eyes sparkled just a bit more and one single tear ran down his pale cheek. He was shaking and the little sobs were escaping from his parted lips. Without much thinking, he pulled Louis into tight hug, his face resting on his shoulder as he cried some more. Louis didn’t know what that exactly meant – he couldn’t really. But Harry was hugging him, so he guessed it was a good sigh.

“Yes. Yes, I wanna try. God Louis, of course I want.” He said through his tears, his words muffled with Louis’ shirt. And Louis smiled brightly. And he hugged Harry even tighter before letting go and looking him straight in the eyes.

“I’m going to make you feel loved.” He whispered and sealed those words with one simple kiss.

 

And what was about Niall? Well, let’s say that his boy was Zayn. And Zayn knew the whole time Niall was watching him. And maybe he developed a bit of a crush on him. And maybe he got sick of Niall sneaking and hiding so he finally acknowledged him and told him everything. And maybe Niall got a bit scared, but at the end, they solved it all out. Now, six months later, they’re living in Zayn’s flat along with a dog that was too ugly to exist but both of them loved him very dearly. Zayn was still a stripper and Niall didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all.

Louis and Harry were happy. Harry finally had everything he wanted – he was at Uni, studying law and business. Turns out, he could do anything what he wanted. Louis worked at some store in Department Store where he earned them enough money and he helped Harry with his (home)work a lot. They lived in Louis’ flat till Harry sold his own. They had a cat that peed wherever he could. They still haven’t teach him.

All in all, all of their lives settled in a way that worked for them. It’d never be perfect, but it could be close to perfect if you only _try._


End file.
